


the eisner family reunion

by i_am_sion



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Grief/Mourning, Post Cindered Shadows
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-20
Updated: 2020-02-20
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:14:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22814449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/i_am_sion/pseuds/i_am_sion
Summary: "And why, pray tell, is she in the Cathedral, Your Excellency?" Jeralt's voice dripped with saccharine as he spat her title in her face. "Why is my late wife in the Cathedral?"
Comments: 2
Kudos: 41





	the eisner family reunion

Jeralt demanded that Sitri be buried. _Properly._

Many a time Byleth had seen his father engulfed by the rage of war, surrounded by death and torrents of blood and gore, but he found ways to redirect it. Reflect it off his person with the swing of his spear. Fear held no place in his heart, and he held too much stake in this world to lose himself to emotions like anger. Anger clouded the mind. Made people prone to making mistakes. At most, he would get irritated. Maybe even snappy at insubordinate underlings. It was rare for him to express much in terms of emotion. He could laugh a bit with the help of alcohol. Show sympathy and grief to those who lost their lives in the business.

But never had Byleth seen him _angry._

When the umbral beast was defeated, the corrupted magic holding it together came undone-- the chalice, the cardinal, and Byleth's mother, all lied silently on the decorated tile, pristine, as if the Ashen Wolves' night-long battle had been nothing but a dream and they were still sleeping. Only sleeping.

The professor hadn't even the time to tell Jeralt what had conspired in the Abyss. In the Cathedral. When Aelfric was defeated and the dust cleared, the monsters were driven out of Garreg Mach and healers attended to the wounded, there was already a furious flame in Jeralt's eye. Someone had already informed him of the situation-- perhaps Alois or another knight. Maybe in the chaos he found time to force the information out of Seteth; he was bound to know a few of Rhea's most important secrets. But in any case, he dismounted his horse, tossed his spear aside, and stormed the audience chamber, hellbent on asking her himself. His son could hardly keep up behind him, held back by words-- questions that weighed heavy on his shoulders.

"Where is she?" Jeralt snarled, throwing the doors open with such force they slammed into the walls.

"Jeralt--"

He had made it across the room with quick stride, and his hand struck with a quickness at her collar, yanking her closer. The archbishop held her knights back with a glance, and she stood her ground, hands clasped at her middle.

"Where is she?" He asked again, more slowly now, just in case she didn't hear him the first time. Just in case she didn't understand he meant business.

"We are preparing to move her body from the Cathedral."

"And why, pray tell, is she in the Cathedral, _Your Excellency?_ " His voice dripped with saccharine as he spat her title in her face. "Why is _my late wife_ in the Cathedral?"

Rhea's eyes met Byleth's for a second, almost pleadingly, but he had even fewer answers and more questions than his father. He thought about what she had told Aelfric-- she owed him no words. But surely… surely she owed Jeralt at least a few.

She only reiterated what she had previously said. "We are preparing to move her body from the Cathedral for burial. So if you would like to see her--"

"Burial?" He growled, so low and menacing Byleth had half a mind to step in. "I want to know why she wasn't buried in the first place, Rhea."

She unclamped her jaw to speak. “I could not stand the idea of putting her in the dirt. I wanted--”

"I don't give a damn what you want, or what that idiot cardinal wanted. But Sitri--" Jeralt lifted her by the collar until her feet hovered a few inches off the ground and their eyes were level. Rhea leaned back to avoid getting choked and the elaborate headpiece she wore tilted awkwardly with her, threatening to fall. When her guardsmen attempted to step in again, she finally unclasped her hands and held them out in a silent order to halt.

"I don't give a damn what you want, but Sitri never would have wanted this, you hear me? Not to have been put on display in the Abyss or used to make those kids suffer. She just wanted to rest. She wanted to rest in the plot of land _I_ picked out for her, because she wanted to be lying next to _me when we're both gone. Not on display for someone like Aelfric to see. Not for _you_ to see."_

The professor was shocked at how surely his father said that. From what little he knew about his parents, he was certain they loved each other more than anyone could explain to him. 

"How _dare_ you assume any differently," Jeralt snarled. "How dare you disrespect the dead like that. I'm sick of you putting your selfish wants ahead of everyone else's. Ahead of _Sitri's._ You're no better than Aelfric." 

Rhea visibly tensed at that, and Byleth knew the mercenary had crossed a line somewhere. Even someone as emotionless as he-- even as someone who hadn't a clue what was going on, he could understand that she too loved his mother. Jeralt's wife. Gently, he placed a hand on his shoulder. 

Jeralt's eyes flashed at Byleth, furiously, almost with the intent to lash out at him. It took him a second to realize who was touching him was no foe, and his bitter features softened. He lowered his arm, slowly, slowly, slowly, and set Rhea on the ground, eyes locked on his son. 

"We should go," Byleth said in his plain, nonurgent way. 

"Right…." Jeralt released the archbishop's collar. He turned to her, one last time. Jabbed a finger in her direction. "You and I? We're going to have a nice, long _chat_ when I get back." 

With that, he turned and stormed out. 

The duo marched off to the Cathedral, with Byleth trailing slightly behind the other. He had questions, but… he wasn't sure Jeralt had the answers or patience for them at the moment, so dutifully he followed in his usual silence. 

In the Cathedral, they were greeted by Alois, who was, mercifully quiet for once in his life. They were grateful for the coincidence he was in charge of relocating Sitri. The chances that they would be met with resistance were slim, but if need be, they were prepared to fight tooth and nail to say their goodbyes. 

"Captain, I--" The knight wrung his hands. What was he to say in this situation? 

"Thanks, Alois. I'll just be a minute. Afterwards, we're putting her in her grave, where she belongs." 

"But…" 

"It's alright. I've let Rhea know. The kid and I'll just be a minute." 

"Sure, if you would just allow us to…" His eyes wandered to the corner where others had been wrapping up the cardinal's body in white cloths. 

Jeralt's fists clenched at the sight. "If he weren't dead already--" 

"I can't imagine how you must feel, Captain, but you mustn't..." 

He heaved a heavy sigh. Regained his composure. Spoke through clenched teeth. "I won't. I won't. Can we… can we please get a minute or two?" 

"I'll give you more than just a minute." 

The Cathedral was cleared of knights, and Jeralt approached the altar where Sitri was laid. Byleth hung back, simply watching as he cautiously made his way up the steps and knelt beside the corpse. He took her hand, and the professor saw him recoil a bit. Her unblemished body lied so peacefully before them, she looked as if she were napping, but the frost that settled over her skin told of something more permanent than sleep. 

Byleth had never seen his father sad, either. 

Jeralt's lips pressed into a thin line as he placed kisses against Sitri's ice cold hand. Held her fingers against his cheek, eyes closed. 

“I’m sorry, my love.” 

His solemn voice echoed off the empty Cathedral walls. Byleth could feel just how much he ached in his words. 

“If I had only known….” The knight placed her hands atop one another, just below her navel, and brushed any unkempt hairs from her face. Kissed her cheek. It wasn’t the same as when she were alive. “This whole time, I had thought you were resting.” 

With his back turned to him, Byleth wasn’t certain, but he thought he heard him softly weeping as he murmured apologies to her deaf ears. The sound twisted knots in his gut. He didn’t know what to do with this feeling. He didn’t know what it was. He didn't know if he could feel sad for someone he never knew. He didn't know if he had the right to. But the feeling sat heavy in the pit of his stomach, nagging and growing larger by the minute. 

"Kid." 

Byleth looked up from his twiddling thumbs. 

"Come here. There's… someone I'd like for you to meet." Jeralt's awkwardness was hidden behind a simper as he waved him over. 

Reluctantly, Byleth knelt beside the other. 

"Byleth, this is your mother, Sitri." His fingertips caressed her cheek. He still wouldn't turn to look at him-- something Byleth couldn't fault him for. He probably wanted to take as much of her in as possible. Carve every little detail into his memory. "She loved you so much, kid. So much, she gave her life for you." 

He didn't know how to feel about that little tidbit either. Did Jeralt… resent him for that? Did he ever wish it was he who died and not Sitri? 

But the silence that surrounded them thereafter yielded no answers either. The young professor contented himself with not knowing. 

"I'll tell you everything about her, one day, and I'm… I'm sorry you've been kept in the dark even now." Jeralt's finger traced her jawline. 

Byleth had Sitri's delicate nose and lips and chin. His mother's dainty features, and his father's cool temperament. He caught himself picturing what his life would have been like if she had not passed away. He would have grown up in Garreg Mach, warm and well-fed, guarded by tall stone walls and two sets of arms that loved him. Maybe he would have joined the Officer's Academy as a student, instead of being dragged into it as a teacher. 

Or… perhaps, he would not have a life at all to contemplate. Jeralt and Sitri would mourn the loss of their child and the world would have kept on turning without him. It seemed his father would have been happy that way. Would Jeralt have been happy if the ritual were completed? Would he have accepted his wife back into his life again? Surely... surely.... 

"This isn't a good time to explain everything," the old mercenary said. "I promise, I'll tell you everything… eventually. Just not now. Not here." 

Byleth thought that meant he was done talking, because Jeralt sighed, picking up her hand again to press to his lips. His eyes crinkled around the corners with pain as he kissed each of her fingertips. 

"She loved you so much, kid. She did everything she could for you, and she smiled so wide and so bright when she was carrying you…" He sniffled after a minute. Finally, _finally_ turned to look at his son. He was smiling a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. Byleth could tell he was trying though, and he appreciated the effort. “I loved her so much. I didn’t know I could love someone as much as I loved your mother. I still do. She changed my life.” 

The young man felt a twinge of guilt pang in his chest-- right where his mother’s heart was, keeping him alive. Aelfric had spat such venom at him. A child who did not cry. Did not feel remorse for taking Sitri’s life for his own. 

Surely, his own father harbored the same feelings. 

But-- 

Jeralt reached out with his large hand-- the one that wasn’t holding Sitri’s-- and pulled his son in close, holding his head against his chest. The sound of a heartbeat in Byleth’s ear was an unfamiliar one. Warm. Steady. Grieving. Unsure. All wrapped into one, strong rhythm. He could not recall the last time he had been held like this, if there were ever such a time. 

“Thank you,” Jeralt whispered into his hair. “Thank you… for saving your mother.” 

The knot in Byleth’s core had wound up so tight, so _heavy_ , it felt as though it would just fall through the lining of his stomach. He wouldn’t know what to do with it if it did. Didn’t know what to do with it just sitting there. He held his breath, hoping it wouldn’t come spewing forth like vomit. 

Was this what a _family_ was supposed to feel like? 

He had never been more grateful for Alois’ presence. The distracting noise he made. 

“Sorry, captain, I really hate to interrupt, but we really need to clean up in here.” 

Jeralt cleared his throat. Wiped his eyes discreetly. “Sure. Sure.” He brought himself to his feet, painfully slow. As if he were moving through syrup. He wasn’t ready to say goodbye. Not again. But he had to. He held her hand for a second longer. Kissed her one last time. “I’ll see you again, my love.” 

Byleth’s body felt heavy. Tired. His gaze lingered on his mother’s face, hoping to find the love that Jeralt spoke of on her frozen features but finding none. To him, no matter how much he wished otherwise, she was simply another face he saved. A stranger to whom he had repaid a large debt. 

Jeralt gave him one final squeeze around the shoulders as they walked away. “She’d be so proud of you. Y’know, she named you?” 

He did not know that. 

The tangle in his core did not leave him, and instead grew larger, denser, _unbearable_ with the passing of the Ethereal Moon. 

It spilled forth from his eyes, finally free, as Byleth stood over their joint grave in the dirt. 

He still didn’t know what it was. 

**Author's Note:**

> i really love the dlc but i just thought.... it _forgot_ someone important. :)


End file.
